


Behold the Lamb

by PossessiveNoun



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will, Cannibalism, Celtic God!Hannibal, Character Death, Creepy Hannibal, Explicit Sexual Content, Horror Elements, M/M, Magical Elements, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Hannibal, Sacrifice!Will, Sassy Will, Sexual Tension, Someone Help Will Graham, Top Hannibal, but not Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PossessiveNoun/pseuds/PossessiveNoun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Will Graham,” Hannibal repeated, rolling the sound in his mouth like he was tasting it. Maybe he was. The thought made Will flush. “You are not like the usual sacrifices the village send me.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Will can’t help but wonder why he wasn’t dead yet. “What is the usual sacrifice?”</i></p><p> <i>“Either the sick or the dying.” Hannibal responded, stepping closer, invading Will’s space. Will had nowhere to go except pressing himself back against the pole. </i></p><p>  <i>Hannibal reached out with his long fingers, his cool touch sliding down his cheek to rest just below his chin. “I never had anyone so pretty before.”<i></i></i></p><p>  ~</p><p> The quaint village of Wolf Trap had a wicked secret. For an abundant harvest and disease free life for the villagers, the people have made a deal with the Horned God of the Wood, Hannibal. In return for such blessings, Hannibal demands a human sacrifice every year. </p><p> The sacrifice was chosen and this year it's Will. Only Will doesn’t plan to go quietly.</p><p> And Hannibal? He likes it when they struggle</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

 

He couldn't say for sure how long he had been there for. There were no windows in this dank place to mark the passage of time, no natural light to penetrate the perpetual darkness of his cell. Had it been a matter of hours? days? Weeks?

He had never been afraid of the dark before. Even when he was a child, he didn't need the candle lantern that cast mythical beasts on his bedroom walls or the door left cracked open. The dark had never unnerved him; he had always felt some small measure of peace from the stillness.

Now, though, he was growing to fear it.

Maybe it wasn’t so much the dark, as being alone that bothered him. Odd, considering how he once preferred it to company. Being an outsider in Wolf Trap didn’t afford him many friends, save for Alana and, in a small way, Jack. He never thought he would miss their presence so terribly, felt the comforting touch to let him know everything will be okay.

The darkness did strange things to people’s minds, conjured spectres out of shadows that lingered in the corners of the cell, like malevolent spirits. Will fought the rising tide of hysteria by keeping his good memories close, like a well loved sweater. But it was all beginning to slip away, like grains of sand slipping through his fingers, pictures fraying at the edges.

He hummed snippets of tunes, dreamt passages of stories he had read in his well worn books and the welcome home he would get from his dogs (is anyone feeding them?). It all played over and over again in his head. It hurt to think about them, but he had to, or else he would go insane.

The dogs would be wondering where their master was, he imagined. The thought alone made him more anxious than ever.

A loud metallic clang of the lock startled Will from his thoughts. A wedge of pale yellow light sliced through the darkness, then travelled along the stone wall as the heavy cell door opened. Caught in the lantern's glow, his eyes watered at the brightness. He squeezed them shut and cowered in the corner of his cell, his delicate arms wrapped around his knees in a protective gesture.

“Will.” A dark figure stepped into the cell and though Will could not make out his features, he recognised the deep voice belonging to Jack Crawford, the town Mayor. “It’s time.”

“Jack?” Will croaked, eyes blinking rapidly in the eye watering light. “Jack, what-”

“I’m sorry Will,” Jack said gruffly as he stared at the torch rather than look Will in the eyes. “It’s been decided.”

Jack stepped away from the door and two other men entered, guards of this prison, and one roughly pulled Will to his feet. The other wrapped a course length of rope around his wrists to bind them. Will didn't struggle. He still bore the bruises from the last time he thought that was such a good idea.

So much for being his friend.

“Decided what?” It was a stupid question, all things considered. He knew why he was ripped from his bed in the middle of the night by armed strangers and dragged to this damp hole and left here for judgement.

It was the Autumn Equinox and, with Jack’s presence here now, it must be the night of the Harvest moon. The sacrifice to the Horned God of the Wood had to be made.

Jack’s lips tightened until they were almost bloodless. “I’m sorry, Will. I really am. The committee has chosen you to be the sacrifice.”

Will could almost believe Jack was sorry. Almost.

He gave a brittle laugh, the bitterness of the sound tasting like acid on his tongue. “Sure you are, Jack. Just as you are grateful it isn’t you or your wife Bella. Not that they would pick you, being the mayor and all. Such a useful part of whole community.”

Jack’s cheek jumped in anger. “It’s for the good of the village.”

How many times had Will heard that line? He had grown up in this village, this perfect village free of any toil and strife, with the fields full and fertile. Crops were abundant, and the late summer harvest was ripe for the picking. The first grains were threshed, apples plump in the trees, and gardens were overflowing with their pretty flowers and shrubberies. The people of the village, protected by the walled boundary encircling it, suffered no illness or disease. Luck followed them like a trusted companion, every endeavour met with success, every venture rewarded.

This paradise was all thanks to the Horned God of the Harvest, a powerful deity that blessed them every year for a yearly price that demanded the life of one of the villagers. They offered up the sanctity of life willingly.

A little too willingly.

“Sacrifice the few for the good of the many,” Will intoned, the words like glass in his throat. “I know how this goes.”

“If you know how this goes, then why didn’t you marry Alana when you had the chance?” Jack demanded.

Rules of the village so you didn’t wind up as the number one choice for the sacrifice: Be a useful participant of the community, ensure the continuation of the village through marriage and obey the laws that the committee lay down at all times.

Will had no chance to begin with. He was a recluse, shied away from the others as it brought a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach knowing the method of their prosperity. While he loved Alana, the woman he had grown up with since they were very young, he loved her like he would love a sister. He couldn’t commit to a marriage with a woman he respected but didn’t love, not even to save his own life.

“I’m a hunter,” Will growled. “I provide for this village. Who else is willing to go to the wood and hunt for meat?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s not good enough, Will. You’ve always butted heads with the Committee on everything-”

“It’s not exactly hard to do that, Jack. Not when Freddie Lounds is on that Committee.”

Jack pointed at Will’s face and Will immediately quieted. “It doesn’t matter if Hitler himself is on that Committee, you don’t argue. You’ve put yourself in this position and I can’t get you out of it. Not this time. My hands are tied.”

Will gave him a sardonic look and held his bound hands out in front of him for emphasis. “The only one whose hands are tied is mine, Jack.”

“Do not put the blame on me. You know i’m right,” Jack argued.

Will wanted to protest, the weight of such injustice pressing heavily on his chest like a physical weight. Words welled up and then died on his lips. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Tell Alana i’m sorry.”

Jack didn’t say anything. There was no point, nothing could comfort the condemned. He nodded to the guards who pulled on the rope to get Will to move forward.

Will’s legs felt like they would give out at any moment, trembling and weak from lack of food and the fear of what was to come. He thought he wouldn’t be able to walk on his own but one foot in front of the other proved him stronger than he thought.

The guard with the lantern led the way down the main corridor of the dungeon. Thick stale air coated the back of his throat and lay heavy in his lungs. His bare feet shuffled over stone and puddles of indefinable muck that he would rather not think about.

The passage was low and narrow, three cells on each side. The prison wasn’t very big, the village didn’t have need for such a big place, and it was kept underground. Better to pretend it wasn’t happening at all than be constantly reminded of it.

The guard pulled him up a flight of stairs and through a set of thick metal doors and out into the open. It was late evening, the sun had slipped below the horizon and the sky was darkening to a deep bruise. The fresh air felt cool against his skin and he shivered. A pair of thin trousers and a worn t shirt wasn’t much to fight off the chill in the air.

They were now standing in the clearing before the entrance gates of the village. A horse drawn cart stood idly by with two chestnut horses pawing at the ground. The driver, a man by the name of Zeller and who had never really liked Will all that much, sat at the front of the cart, ready to take Will outside of the boundary.

He could hear the distant sound of live music and the tinkling laughter from the mouths of many. Will knew that, in the centre of the Village, a great feast was being held with a live band. Long tables would have been set up and piled with plates of food. Coloured paper lanterns would have been lit and hung from poles, turning the street into a fairy grotto.

It was a celebration for the harvest, to give thanks for what they had reaped and what they would sow in the new year. A heavily painted mask over a night where one of their own would be sacrificed. Will hopes they all choked on the food they stuffed in their mouths.

“I’m surprised the committee hasn’t come to see me off,” Will said. “Freddie Lounds always did like to stick the boot in.”

“She wanted to come, but I told her to stay,” Jack said as he pushed Will forward. “Seeing you off is my job.”

Will’s smile was sharp. “Lucky you.”

Will was climbing into the back of the cart when he heard his name being shouted. He turned to see Alana, her face white with fear, as she hurried towards them, her long skirts balled up in her fists so she could run faster. “Will! What are you doing? What is happening?”

The guards caught her before she could reach the cart, roughly pushing her back.

“You should be at the celebration,” Jack said sternly. He motioned to the guards. “Take her back with you.”

“You can’t do this!” She cried, fighting against their hold. “Jack! Don’t do this!”

“It’s out of my hands,” Jack said tiredly. “You know that more than anyone here.”

Will offered her a weak smile. “It’s okay Alana. It will be alright.”

Alana looked at him incredulously, never ceasing her struggles. “Don’t be ridiculous, how can this be alright?”

Will found that it was painful to look at her, lying to her. He looked down at his dirt stained feet. “Make her go back, Jack. She shouldn’t be here for this.”

Jack nodded to the guards. “Do it. Now.”

“No!” She struck out at one of the guards, dragged her nails across his face. He gave a startled cry and let go of her. Alana darted past the other and launched herself at the cart. Instinctively Will caught her clumsily with his bound hands, her arms coming around his neck in a bone crushing hug. “Will!”

“Alana!” Jack said sharply, trying to pull her away.

Alana’s hands slipped from his neck to hold his hands in hers. “I can’t let this happen.” She said fiercely. “I won’t.”

“You have no choice,” Will told her, holding onto her hands just as tightly. “You need to let go.”

By that time the guards had caught up and, using more force than necessary, hauled her down from the cart and away from will.

“Zeller, get us moving.” Jack ordered and Zeller whistled at the horses, spurring them into motion.

The cart rolled forward with a jerk and they quickly passed through the entrance gate, Alana’s tear streaked face now lost in the dark, her cries growing fainter with each passing second.

Will was suddenly aware of something in his hands and, careful that Jack or Zeller weren’t watching him, he glanced down and saw a small knife, one that women used in their dress making.

Beautiful resourceful Alana, he thought with no small measure of admiration. He was careful to slide the knife under the thick rope, feeling the sharp edge dig into his skin but not caring. He welcomed the pain.

They soon passed the fields ready for planting along a dirt track that wound away to the very edge of The Great Wood. It was an incredibly old forest. The times he had entered it Will would swear he could feel the age of the trees brush against his skin, make his bones ache with the feel of it. It was a silent place, eerie, with many bright eyes always watching. Dark and oppressive, the trees made a high canopy above the ground so that light could barely seep through, even on the sunniest of summer days.

Will had never entered the woods at night, only ever in the day. Even then he had kept the tree line in his peripheral vision, never straying very far from it. He had a great respect for the woods, he treated it like a living entity, one that was very powerful and could make him its enemy in a heartbeat. Paths could be easily lost, air growing thin in his lungs, noises that sounded too much like laughter and faint weeping.

Will’s throat clicked as he swallowed. What would await him in the dark?

“Have you ever seen it?” Will asked Jack, eyes still on the trees in front of them. “Have you ever seen the Horned God?”

Jack was doing the same, his sharp eyes ever searching the unnatural dark. “No,” he finally replied. “But i’ve heard him.”

Will tore his gaze away to stare at Jack. “What did he sound like?”

“Someone i would never want to get inside my head.”

The horses pulled up short in distress, snorting and trying to back away from the trees. Zeller fought to calm them with his calming voice but to no avail. The men weren’t going any further, not with the horses.

“Zeller, stay with the cart.” Jack said as he jumped down from the seat and tugged Will with him. “We can carry on by foot.”

“Don’t take too long,” Zeller called, clearly uncomfortable with being left on his own. “I want to be back in the village as soon as i can.”

“It won’t take long,” Jack said grimly, thrusting Will in front of him as they passed the first line of trees into the woods.


	2. Chapter Two

The change in atmosphere was instantaneous. It was like stepping through a veil into a different world. His steps faltered for a moment before his courage was roused and he carried on. A deep intake of breath behind him told Will that Jack had felt it too. 

“Keep moving.” Jack said, prodding him onwards.

There were no sounds of nocturnal wildlife, just a disconcerting quiet. Will could only compare it to an unnatural stillness, like it was waiting for something. The deep breath before the plunge. It didn’t take a giant leap of rational thought to know that it was waiting for the sacrifice. Him. 

“Do you stay until the very end, Jack?” Will asked, now openly baiting him. For whatever reason, Will wasn’t sure. He felt a deep burning anger in the pit of his stomach at being reduced to this and the nearest convenient target was the Mayor. Good ol’ Jack, always striving for the betterment of his beloved town. “Do you watch the sacrifice die at the hands of the horned God?”

Jack didn’t answer, Will just got another rough shove for his troubles, nearly falling flat on his face as he stumbled over an upturned root hidden amongst dry leaves. His toes cried out at the abuse but he gritted his teeth and kept walking. 

Laughing breathlessly, Will said, “Of course you don’t. That would break this little fantasy you are all deluding yourselves with, right? Sending the weak and the elderly, the undesirables to some ‘benevolent’ God who rewards you with your heart’s desire. Keep your eyes averted, keep your head down. Mustn't feel the shame and the guilt that you all should be feeling.”

“Shut up,” Jack growled. “You enjoyed the benefits just as much as anyone in this village, Will. That makes you just as bad as the rest of us.”

“I let myself feel the guilt, Jack. It’s why I couldn’t stomach being in any of your company. Isn't that why I’m in this predicament in the first place? But you’re right, I can’t deny I didn’t participate in it. I stayed here, after all. Maybe we should all come out to the woods, reap the rewards for being murderers. The Horned God would have his own Harvest feast.”

This time Jack’s shove did send him to the floor, rolling painfully to his shoulder to save a himself from a mouthful of dirt, his hands still bound by the rope. He groaned in pain, turning onto his back to stare up at the leaf canopy above their heads. “I take it you don’t agree.”

Jack roughly picked Will up by the shoulders, spun him about to face a clearing of the trees and in the middle stood a worn wooden pole taller than the both of them, its base impaled into the ground. It was lighter in colour to the surrounding trees and Will doubted anyone would have been brave enough to cut any down to use its wood for such a purpose. Jack dragged Will to the pole by the collar of his t-shirt, and Will was dismayed to see bloodied gouges in its bark, the red flaking away. 

Something with large claws had done that kind of damage.

Jack used his more considerable bulk to spin Will back round and slam him back against the pole, grabbing at the rope and pulling his bound hands over his head to tie the loose end around the pole in a secure slip not. Any movement would make the knot tighten and ensured that Will wasn’t going anywhere.

Jack took a step back to regard his work and Will used the time to test his restraints. No give.

“Now what?” Will asked.

“Now I leave you.” Jack hesitated, mouth opened to say something, before he changed his mind and went for something else. “I never forget the sacrifices, Will. I carry them with me everyday. I see their faces every night. I’ll carry yours with me too.”

With that, he turned from Will and walked away.

“I’m sure that comforted the other sacrifices when they were getting ripped apart, Jack.” Will called after him.

Jack didn’t stop to look back, didn’t even slow his gait. In a matter of seconds, the darkness swallowed him up and Will was left alone to his fate.

~

There were eyes watching him from the darkness. 

They stayed at a distance, reflective retinas shining silver in what little light there was. All different kinds of eyes floating in the dark, but no sound was made. He felt them track his every hitching movement, felt it like electricity dancing along his skin. It wasn’t friendly, the attention had an odd quality to it.

Covetous. Hungry.

But they made no move to come closer, like they were standing sentinel for something. Or perhaps for someone. 

Will felt the escalation of panic inside of him, threatening to crest like a wave and consume every part of him. His breath came out in short pants, breath misting in the cold air. The temperature had dropped dramatically since entering the woods. His bare feet and his fingers were going numb from the cold, almost painfully so. Despite this, he felt like his veins were on fire from all of the adrenaline being pumped around his body. His fear was keeping him hyper aware of everything around him.

He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he could practically hear his own heartbeat like a marching drum. 

“Hello?” He called into the darkness, his voice catching on the word. “Is anyone there?”

The eyes flickered for a moment, like they were blinking before they resumed their watch. Nothing answered him, no returning greeting. Just that smothering silence for company. 

“This is madness,” Will said to himself, his voice unnaturally loud in his ears. Glancing up at the knot above his head, he gave an experimental tug using the rope binding his wrists. It had no give. Of course it didn’t, it would never be that easy.

Rising on his tiptoes, Will began to work the knife out from its place between the rope and his skin. Blood slowly trickled from the cut that was caused from his fall, but he ignored it. Finally the knife came away free and, with a small hiss of triumph, he began to saw away at the rope. 

It was very slow progress, the knife small and the rope thick, and time seemed to trickle away faster and faster the more he became aware of just how little he had left before he would be face to face with the Horned God.

Will had perseverance on his side and the very strong inclination to live. The bonds began to fray, the cutting and pulling were beginning to result in progress. But it was not to be. 

There came a sound of a twig branch breaking, as if weight had been applied to it. Or a shoe. The sound was ominous in such a setting, and Will immediately stopped his struggles, ears straining for any more sound. His eyes searched futilely in the darkness. He could barely pick out the dark shapes of the trees, let alone whatever could be out there in the woods. 

The luminous eyes that had been watching the whole time had vanished, and Will found that frightening more than comforting. Predators were only afraid of one thing: other predators. Will held the small knife in a death grip, his knuckles turning white at the pressure. 

Licking his lips to wet them, Will tried once more and called out. “Jack? Is that you?”

Another twig broke to his left and Will’s head snapped around to the origin of the sound. From the depths of the darkness, a form stepped out so Will could see what he was up against. 

It was a being Will had never seen the likes before. He, for Will can gather but its size and mien to be a he, was over six feet tall, skin as black as pitch. He had antlers growing from his head, tall and majestic and just as black. The face was human, the burning eyes were not. He stood on legs that grew into the hind quarters of a stag, hooves in place of feet.

The God took Will’s breath away and Will was unable to look anywhere else save for that face. The cheekbones were sharp, high ridges where his eyebrows should be and, though entirely other worldly, it was a handsome face. 

The Horned God, here to claim his village sacrifice as is his divine right. 

“Oh my god,” Will couldn’t help but whimper.

The being smiled, a flash of pristine white teeth stark against his skin. “I am glad no introductions are needed on my part,” he spoke, his voice deep and rang with a foreign accent that made his words curl appealingly. “Though I prefer to go by the name of Hannibal.”

The Horned God, Hannibal, circled Will and the pole slowly, taking his time to pursue Will at his leisure. Will shivered at the attention, feeling it against his skin like Hannibal had reached out and touched him. 

Hannibal made a complete circle around Will before standing in front of him. “And who might you be?”

Names held meaning to the fae, Will thought distantly. Giving it to Hannibal could mean the God held power over Will for his, admittedly, short life. He had every intention to lie, but when Hannibal caught his gaze with his, the truth came tumbling out. “Will Graham,” he croaked. “My name is Will Graham.”

It didn’t matter if knowing his name gave Hannibal power over him. Just looking at him made Will want to tell him everything, break himself apart so that he could bare all to this being. It was an irrational compulsion that was thrumming through his veins and one look at that otherworldly face told Will that Hannibal had somehow made him speak. 

“Will Graham,” Hannibal repeated, rolling the sound in his mouth like he was tasting it. Maybe he was. The thought made Will flush, feel his skin heat in the chill of night. “You are not like the usual sacrifices the village send me.”

Will can’t help to wonder why he wasn’t dead yet. “What is the usual sacrifice?”

“Either the sick or the dying. The elderly, the obnoxiously rude.” Hannibal responded, stepping closer, invading Will’s space. Will had nowhere to go except pressing himself back against the pole, keeping his hands tightly enclosed over the knife. 

Hannibal reached out with his long fingers, fingers that ended in sharp claws. His cool touch slid down his cheek to rest just below his chin. “I never got anyone so pretty before.”

Will turned his face away, effectively breaking the contact between them. He expected a displeased reaction at the very least, but Hannibal only seemed amused by the small rebellion. His fingers traced the hollow of Will’s throat and the tiny hairs on the back of Will’s neck stood on end. 

This could be the moment. This could be the moment where Hannibal uses those fingers and strangle the very life from him. Or rip his throat out, one of the two. 

But the moment passed and Hannibal’s hand slipped away. 

Will swallowed reflexively. “I’m not exactly a willing sacrifice,” he said into the silence. 

Hannibal’s smile turned positively predatory. “They never are.”

“What do you do to them? The sacrifices,” Will elaborate. “How do you kill them?”

“Oh, in many ways.” Hannibal replied. “But that is not the question you were meaning to ask now, was it? You want to know the whole reasoning behind an exchange of sacrifice for your precious harvest?”

“It’s crossed my mind a couple of times, yeah.” Will shifted his feet, causing him to pull at his bonds and he felt the rope give a little. He stilled, heartbeat picking up, afraid that Hannibal knew what Will was up to. 

Nothing flickered across the God’s face to say he took any notice. 

“It all comes down to the balance of nature. In order for something to live, something must die.” Hannibal leaned in closer to Will, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed him in. The God’s chest rumbled, like he was a big cat, before those mesmerizing eyes were open again. His hand reached up past Will’s face, fingers dancing up the length of Will’s arm to his bound wrist.

Will’s heart stuttered at the motion, he knows, he knows about the knife-

Hannibal pulled his hand away from Will’ wrist until his fingers were back to Will’s eye level. On the tips of his fingers was a smear of Will’s blood. Slowly, Hannibal brought those fingers to his own lips and sucked them clean. “Just as you consume the bounty of my harvests, I consume your sacrifices. Balance.”

Will’s stomach rolled at the thought. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt at distancing himself from the whole situation. “You eat them.”

“I eat them.” Hannibal agreed.

Will shook his head. “No.”

Hannibal widened his eyes in question. “No?”

“No.” Will repeated, opening his eyes and looking Hannibal in the eye. “You are not going to eat me.”

Hannibal just looked more amused by the second. “I’m not? And how did you reach that conclusion, dearest Will?”

“Because I’m not the village sacrifice. I’m not anyone’s sacrifice.” Will used all of his strength and yanked at the rope. For a moment, his bonds held and Will experienced a second of crippling vertigo, before the rope finally gave way with a snap and his hands were free. The hand which held the knife drove down towards Hannibal, aiming the blade for the creature’s heart.

Hannibal pulled back at the last second, enough to save himself from a deep stab wound, but not enough to stop the knife cutting his flesh entirely. The blade caught his torso, slicing a line from his collarbone to the middle of his chest. 

Of all the things for Will to be surprised about, it was that a God bled red, just as Will did.

“I’m not your sacrifice,” Will hissed before he took the plunge and took off into the woods, bare feet pounding the ground.

Hannibal’s deep laughter followed him into the darkness.


	3. Chapter Three

Hannibal had never felt so alive as he did in this moment.

He straightened from his defensive position as he watched his sacrifice, his Will, retreat into the woods to disappear into the darkness. Laughing to himself, he glanced down at his chest, watching the skin knit back together and leaving only a smear of blood left in its wake to even say anything had happened at all.

“Clever boy,” he murmured appreciatively.

No other sacrifice had done such a thing before. They had all cried and begged him to be let go, promising him anything in their possession as bribery. They even promised him their neighbour’s possessions, the lives of others more 'worthy' of him, if he should so wish it to be so. All of them so desperate and pathetic as the last. Weak, rude, unworthy human beings that were uninteresting to the point of absolute tedium.

But not this one, this Will Graham. No his beautiful, determined, brave little human Will. This Will Graham who not only managed to escape from his bonds but he was able to draw blood from a God and stay alive to run from him. Hannibal felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought of the chase ahead. The hunt of a prey that was wholly worthy of his attentions. He cannot remember the last time something like this had happened. It must have been centuries at the very least.

Hannibal breathed deeply, the blood scent of his prey’s still in his nose. It was like a red thread connecting Will to Hannibal, pulling taut with the lengthening distance between the two. No matter how far the human ran, there was no escape for Will now. The thread hummed softly and beckoned the God to follow, like a sweet serenade to his ears only.

Hannibal straightened to his full height and tilted his face up to the night sky, eyes closing in sheer bliss. His opened his mouth and gave a bellowing cry that echoed the woods for miles.

It was time to hunt.

 

~

 

Will was running blindly. He had highly doubted that that little stunt would actually work, and now that it had, Will was running on nothing but pure adrenaline and the single minded need to survive the Harvest moon with every limb intact.

It was hard enough running at full speed in the forest in the day time, but he was running at night with no shoes, inadequate clothing and his body weak from the lack of food and water after his little stint in the Wolf Trap cells. Branches came out of nowhere to whip Will in the face and arms and it took everything in him not to crash into the trunks and stay on his feet amongst the lifted tree roots.

But it wasn’t good enough as his foot went down wrong in a rabbit hole and it spun him round into a trunk. It knocked the wind painfully out of him and he landed heavily on his hands and knees, scraping the skin roughly. His palms protested at the ill treatment but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Staggering to his feet, Will lurched forward again and carried on running.

Everything looked exactly the same at night time, no clear markers to depict where he was going or if he was simply running around in circles. He was a hunter, but had never navigated the woods at night, nor when he was being chased. It was too dangerous, the Woods were far too unpredictable and he didn’t have the time to slow down and get his bearings. Hannibal would be upon him in a matter of heartbeats.

_How am I supposed to find my way out with no gear and no idea where my point of origin was?_

_Calm down_ , another part of Will said, a much more rational part. _You need to calm down, take deep breaths and think it over logically._

Will slowed down to a complete stop, hands on his knees as he takes deep lungfuls of air to slow his heart rate. He strained his ears for any sound of Hannibal, but he didn’t detect anything that would suggest the God was near. Straightening, Will took stock of his surroundings.

He couldn’t use the sun for a shadow to mark his direction, or a visually identifiable object that he could see from any great distance to mark that he was travelling in a straight line. The only way he would be able to track his journey was by the stars. He had to find the North Star, which could be found by the big dipper and cassiopeia, to find his way out of the woods and out of danger. Cassiopeia looked like a W on its side with the middle point pointing towards the big dipper. Tracing an imaginary line straight out from the middle point, about halfway to the big dipper, then draw a line using the two stars that form the outer lip of the dipper straight out about halfway to cassiopeia, they should intersect at the North Star. Will’s eyes followed a line down to the earth from the North Star and he found true north, just to his right.

The direction he needed to be heading.

He barely took a step forward when he heard an animalistic cry that shook him to his very core. He was trembling, the sound like nothing he had ever heard before in his life. He knew what it meant at some instinctual level and likened it to a horn being blown at the start of a medieval hunt. Hannibal was coming for him.

Will held the knife tighter in his hand and he kicked up his speed, taking the steep incline of the earth as fast as he could. Using the trees to pull him up, he made it to the top without sliding around. He kept the North Star in his peripheral vision as he pushed himself on, unmindful of his bare feet with the hard ground. He could barely feel them thanks to the cold air.

“Woah!” Will came to a screeching halt before he took a tumble off of the side of a deep ravine. The fall had to be at least forty feet to a floor of hard unforgiving rocks. He quickly pulled back and plastered himself to the nearest tree as an anchor.

“You should be more careful, Will,” came the melodic voice of his hunter in the darkness. “I would hate for you to hurt yourself so soon in our little game.”

Will whirled around, knife out in a threatening gesture, but Hannibal wasn’t there. He turned in a full circle, crouched in a defensive position, but nothing moved. Hannibal wasn’t there.

“Why would it matter if i hurt myself?” Will questioned. “Wouldn’t that make it easier for you to eat me?”

Hannibal laughed and it felt like the sound caressed the whole of Will’s body like silk. “You’re right, it would. But that would ruin our game, wouldn't it, Will? I would hate for it to be ruined so soon, i’m rather enjoying myself.”

“Do you consider my life a game, Hannibal?” Will asked, edging around the lip of the ravine, eyes always searching.

Hannibal laughed again and Will shivered violently. “Isn’t all life considered a game?”

Will didn’t answer. Instead he turned and ran, skirting around the ravine and down the other side in a less than graceful slid. A shadow darted to his left, keeping up with him. Will couldn’t help but instinctively veered to the right. He wasn’t looking where he was going and paid dearly for it.

Colliding painfully with a tree trunk, the impact took him off his feet and he landed hard on his shoulder. It exploded in agony and Will cried out, trying to roll to his feet. It moved wrong with him, lower than before, indicating that he had managed to dislocate it.

Hannibal was instantly upon him, his weight bearing him down and keeping him pinned to the floor. The taut position caused by added weight ignited the pain in his shoulder and Will’s cry turned into a scream.

Hannibal’s teeth glinted in the moonlight above Will’s face. “I have you now.”

Will tried to buck him off but Hannibal’s strong thigh muscles tightened around his hips, effectively stopping the motion so that the God stayed sitting above him. Will swiped the knife at Hannibal, aiming for his face as best as he could, but Hannibal was prepared for the move. He gripped his wrists together and wrenched them over his head, making the bones grate together. The move managed to click the shoulder back into place and Will’s eye sight whited out.

For how long, Will couldn’t say for sure. It could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but when he came too, groaning pitifully from the throb of abused nerve endings, he was still on the forest floor with Hannibal above him. The God was bent over Will, his long tongue licking at the streaks of blood on his temple from the scratches of the branches. Hannibal hummed delightedly, lips trailing the length of Will’s jaw to his chin, nipping lightly, before he took Will’s mouth in an intense kiss. The sudden turn from ‘i-want-to-eat-you’ to ‘i-want-to-kiss-you’ was disorientating to Will and he lay beneath Hannibal in a daze, mouth slack. Hannibal didn’t seem to mind Will not participating, instead he took full advantage of it and licked into Will’s mouth. Will could taste a hint of copper in the kiss and distantly recognised it as his own blood. The observation should have disgusted him but it seemed to snap him out of the daze he was in and he opened his mouth wider, tongue coming into play.

Hannibal growled low in his throat, hands slipping away from Will’s wrists to frame his face, tilting his head just so that Hannibal had better access. It felt like the God was consuming him, forcing Will to submit in such a primal way that Will couldn’t help but to respond to it. When breath became an issue, Hannibal finally let Will’s mouth go and pay special attention to Will’s neck, being sure to nip the pale skin sharply to create deep red marks.

_Ownership_ , Will thought absently as he jerked at the feeling of suction, hips giving a minute thrust upwards. _He’s marking me as his_.

“Wait,” Will panted, twisting under Hannibal’s weight. To get away or a demand for more, he couldn't be entirely sure. “What are you doing-”

Hannibal’s hands curled in Will’s hair and pulled it back to the point of pain as a punishment for his wriggling. Will’s neck grew taut at the angle and he could only stare helplessly up at the creature above him. “I would have thought that would have been obvious. Perhaps you are chaste?”

Hannibal had meant it as a jest, a mocking joke at Will’s inability to process his circumstance. But the widening of Will’s eyes and the dilation of his pupils told the God everything Will wouldn’t allow himself to say.

“Oh,” Hannibal cooed, hands tightening in Will’s hair again and bringing their faces so close together all Will could see was those mercurial eyes. “You are, aren’t you? Not only are you beautiful but you haven’t allowed anyone to touch you in this way.”

Will closed his eyes to shut Hannibal out, whatever good that would do him. It was frightening how easy Hannibal was able to read him. It was like Will was an open book to a powerful being whose intentions were suddenly not so clear.

Will’s hands curled into fists and he became aware of his knife no longer in his hands. Hannibal’s grip on his hair wouldn’t allow him to turn his head to look for it so Will had to use his good arm to feel around in the dirt for the blade. There was no knife, but his fingers felt out a sharp edged rock that fit the palm of his hand. When out of options, use what you can to make do.

Hannibal never saw it coming. He was too distracted by Will’s mouth to see the rock being swung at his face but he sure as hell felt it when Will hit him in the temple as hard as he could. The force toppled Hannibal off of Will and Will didn’t stick around to see if he was knocked out or just dazed. Will staggered to his feet, cradling his abused arm to his chest.

The glint of silver to his right showed where his knife had fallen, probably thrown by Hannibal after his failure of trying to cut the God and Will snatched it up, once again running down the hill. He wasn’t as fast as he had been, the collision with the tree and the pain in his shoulder making him sluggish, but he never once gave up. He kept the north star in front of him at all times and kept on going, constantly glancing back over his shoulder for any sign of Hannibal.

Nothing.

But that didn’t mean a damn thing. Having stabbed and then bludgeoned the God around the head with a rock, he must be losing his patience. Any moment now, he would throw off this playful veneer and come for Will for real.

There would be no stopping him.


	4. Chapter 4

Will’s salvation came in the form of a tree a half hour later. No longer able to keep the north star in his line of sight thanks to his blurred vision from the pain and the sky disappearing behind the canopy of leaves, Will was unsure of where he was heading.

The woods was vast and the area he only knew was back the way he had came, back towards the village. No help would come from them if he were to head that way. The moment they clap eyes on him he would be bundled up and sent back to the horned God. Or even worse, they would slit his throat to ensure he could never get away again.

Will wasn’t willing to risk it, not on some false sentiment-

Will experienced a sickening sense of vertigo when the ground beneath his feet gave way and he was falling down a sharp incline of mud and decaying plant life, coming to a stop at the thick root of a tree, spitting out dirt and trembling violently with shock.

The blade of the knife had bitten into the fleshy part of his hand, blood welling up when he relaxed his hold with a pained hiss. It wasn't too deep, not enough to warrant stitches anyway. Ripping a large strip of his t shirt, Will used the material to bind his hand and stop the blood flow.

Once finished with the task, Will took the time to evaluate his surroundings with a raised eyebrow. He had stumbled upon what looked like a nature photographers paradise, complete with a bubbling stream, a blanket of clover on the ground and a tall beech tree.

_'Oh Rosalind! These trees shall be my books,_  
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;  
That every eye, which in this forest looks,  
Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.  
Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree,  
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.' 

He remembered that verse from his childhood when his school teacher, whose great paranoia of fairies meant she devoted some of her lessons teaching her young pupils defence against fae powers. The fae hated things like iron, bells, fire, Rowan and Beech. 

“The bark of the Beech tree is very magical,” she had said, passing some around the class for them to touch and get to grips with. “Scratch your wishes into the bark and it will come true. If you need protection from the fae, scratch it in the bark and you will be protected from any harm.”

Would that work against a horned God? They were neither human, but Gods had more power wise than any fae that would roam these woods. It would surely take more magic to keep Hannibal away than a water sprite.

What exactly have I got to lose, he thought wryly, other than my life. But what other options were there? 

Will dragged himself to the trunk of the tree, propping himself up by leaning against it and got to work using the blade edge to dig into the bark. “I'm doing this for protection and not to deliberately hurt you,” Will told the tree, feeling incredibly stupid for doing so. “Please don't suddenly come alive and flatten me.”

It wasn’t poetic and it wasn’t neat but it would have to do. Will poured all his thought and hope into the word ‘Safe’ he cut into the bark and prayed to whatever God that wasn’t Hannibal that this would work. For good measure, Will used his own blood and smeared it across the words. Blood was always a powerful tool in ritual, it could do no harm in such a circumstance as this.

“I have to commend you, Will,” Hannibal said as he stepped out of the shadows. “I never would have imagined you would get this far.”

Will huffed a laugh as he sagged against the tree. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I wholly intended it to be,” Hannibal came to stand about three feet away from Will, nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply, scenting the air.

“How’s the head?” Will asked, eyeing the temple he had taken the rock to. Unsurprisingly, there was no mark there. 

Hannibal smiled. “I’ll live.”

“I wasn’t in any doubt,” Will returned tiredly.

Hannibal didn’t answer, instead he slowly crouched down, sitting on his haunches and just looked his fill of the human in front of him.

“What are you waiting for?” Will asked softly. “I’m right here.”

“Yes you are,” Hannibal murmured. “So close and yet so far.”

He brought his hand up, palm out flat, as he pressed it against some invisible barrier. Energy like blue lightning danced along his black hand and after a moment he pulled it away.

It had worked. The Beech tree was protecting him, as Will had wished. 

“You are full of surprises, dear Will,” Hannibal laughed, the sound like pure joy. “I have never met a human quite like you before.”

“Does that mean I get bonus points?” Will asked, never taking his eyes off of him.

Hannibal leered at him, a rather disturbing image from such a being. “Leave the safety of your boundary and I will show you what you get for it.”

Will pretended to mull it over. “I think i’ll stay right where i am, thank you. I like it here.”

“Will,” Hannibal crooned in his lilting accent. “How long do you plan to stay behind your wall? Until the morning? A whole day? How long can a human last without food and water?”

Will didn’t bother to respond. Hannibal was right, of course. He wasn’t going to last for very long, not without water, but he’ll cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, keeping Hannibal away from him was paramount.

“Or perhaps it won’t come to starvation. Perhaps I could wear this shield down and break through it. This wood belongs to me, Will. So does the beech tree. Nothing can hold out against me for long.”

His hand passed against the barrier again, pressing harder and sending sparks up into the air. This time, Will felt it. It was like the displacement of air, and when Hannibal dragged his hand down, Will could have sworn the God’s fingers dragged against the skin of Will’s torso, from his collarbone to his belly button. His eyes widened at the sensation and he scrambled to sit up straighter, drawing his legs up as if he could protect himself.

Hannibal smirked knowingly. “Do you feel that, Will? Do you feel my touch against your skin?”

“Stop it,” Will said, voice sounded strangled as Hannibal made another pass with his fingertips. Will felt the touch on the inside of his thigh and his knee jerked in surprise at the sensation.

“Come out from your hiding place and i will stop,” Hannibal said, sincerity dripping from his words.

Will snorted. “It will be a cold day in Hell before I willingly leave this tree. You’ll have to drag me out by my feet.”

Hannibal’s smirk widened. “Promises, Will. I do not take them lightly.”

 

~

 

Hannibal had retreated into the shadows for a moment, watching Will from afar. It allowed the human the illusion of privacy, of not being observed every second of every minute.

It allowed Hannibal to watch him unimpeded, take in the sight of his muscles starting to relax one by one until he’s practically sprawled against the tree trunk, cradling his shoulder and blinking rapidly in a futile effort to stay awake. 

Dear sweet Will, he must be exhausted from the adrenaline surges and running with no sustenance. Humans were such delicate creatures, needing hours of sleep and fuel to keep their hearts beating. It really was very easy to kill them and in a great many ways to achieve it. Hannibal was endlessly fascinated by their morality. 

“I know you’re still out there,” Will said, Hannibal’s impeccable hearing picking up on his soft low voice, “watching me. I can feel your hunger even from this distance. Must be terribly vexing for you, you’re normally dining on human right about now.”

“On the contrary,” Hannibal said, not moving from his vigil. “I find myself pleasantly diverted. Can you not say the same?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking me if i’m having fun being chased by a cannibalistic God? Because i assure you that fun is not the word i would use to describe this.”

“Isn’t it? Your heart is beating like a tiny rabbit in your ribcage. It makes my own heart beat faster just listening to it.”

“Fear,” Will pointed out. “Humans call that fear.”

“I call it excitement,” Hannibal argued amiably. “That and I can smell the endorphins your body is producing, a clear indicator that you are in fact enjoying this. I cannot blame you, living in such a stilted benign society as you have. Anyone with a bit of intelligence would feel the same.”

“If I craved excitement, you would not be my first choice.” Will said archly, shifting slightly as the roughness of the bark against his back started to get uncomfortable. 

“Are you sure about that, Will?” Hannibal asked sweetly, smile evident in his tone of voice. “I heard the conversation you had with the other one, this Jack. It sounded like you had plenty of chances to conform to your villages authority and not end up as mine. But you didn’t take those chances. Why is that, Will? Did you crave an ending that only I could provide for you? Did you want to meet a God?”

“A cannibalistic God,” Will interrupted him. “Let’s not forget that part.”

“Cannibalism would require the eater and the dinner to be of equal standing. I don’t eat my equals,” Hannibal sniffed.

“Are humans not made in God’s image?” Will returned. 

“Perhaps,” Hannibal acquiesced. “But you are still not my equal, as a pig is not your equal. You eat the pig’s meat, do you consider yourself a cannibal? I think not.”

“I stand corrected.” Will said with barely an inflection in his tone.

Hannibal had never known a sacrifice to be so blasé about their circumstance, to engage Hannibal with his wit and cynicism. The God would miss this when Will was gone. 

Hannibal stilled for a moment, taking Will in anew with fresh eyes. “Of course, it would be considered cannibalism if you were to be made a God.”

Will tilted his head to the side and frowned in confusion. “Made a God?”

But Hannibal didn’t answer. He kept his vigil and waited.

 

~

 

“Why have you not asked me to spare your life?”

Hannibal had not appeared again since he had pulled back after the protection of the Beechwood went up. His voice had the uncanny knack of sounding like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was hopeless to try and figure out where he was at any given time.

“Has that been an option to me all along?” Will asked, not really believing it.

“It could be.” Was the reply. 

Will straightened up. “Are you playing with me, Hannibal? Is this a new game?”

“That depends on what you consider a game.” Hannibal appeared again, like a phantom. A phantom with antlers, Will thought sardonically. 

Hannibal had Will’s attention now and he didn’t want to squander it for any reason. “I can offer you a boon: choose someone else to die in your place so that you may live.”

Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean that someone else…”

Hannibal smiled at him, all sharp white teeth. “Only say the name and it shall be done.”

Will kept his gaze fixed on Hannibal and realised with dawning horror that he was being serious. “I… I can’t.”

“Of course you can, Will. It is simply a matter of doing what they were willing to do to you. It should make no difference either way.”

Will shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. 

Hannibal was once again in touching distance of the barrier, his claws brushing across it like a lover’s caress, his eyes always watching Will. “Consider it a form of Darwinism. They attempted to get rid of you, they failed. Now it is your turn to exact some revenge.”

Will would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted, because he was. Sorely tempted, he really was. Freddie Lounds immediately sprang to mind, her vindictiveness and censure was always aimed at Will, making his life a struggle within village life. As with all weak minded individuals, the rest of the villagers soon followed those they considered higher in the hierarchy. 

It would be so easy to say her name. Say it and she was gone, his life would be his again. But he couldn’t do it. That would make him just as bad as she was, if not worse.

The morality of a fool, he thought bitterly.

“I thank you for the offer, Hannibal.” He finally said. “But i must decline your offer.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Hannibal said with real remorse. “Perhaps you will change your mind when you have properly thought it over.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” Will said. “I think my best chance of survival is with this beech tr-”

“Will!”

Will was interrupted by a loud cry in the distance. His heart stopped at the sound as he recognised the voice. It belonged to Alana.

“Will! Where are you?”

Hannibal cocked his head to the side, like a curious bird. “A friend of yours?”

Will scrambled up. “Alana,” he gasped. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Now that is fear I hear in your voice, Will.” Hannibal crowed. 

“Hannibal, listen to me-” Will took a step towards him. 

“Is she special to you?” Hannibal said, his eyes narrowing in on him. “Is she somehow important?”

“I’m coming out,” Will said, desperate. “You can have me as a sacrifice-”

“As tempting as that is Will, the game has taken an unexpected turn.” Hannibal stepped away from the barrier “As you have no care in regards to the aforementioned bargain, I’m going to make the choice for you. This Alana, her life for yours. Be a sweetheart and stay put, won’t you? I’ll be back as soon as this business is dealt with.”

Before Will could find the breath to protest, Hannibal went under a sudden transformation. Gone were the antlers and pitch black skin. Gone were the luminous eyes and the hindquarters of the stag. In his place was a gorgeous looking man in his forties, soft chestnut hair with intense dark eyes. He wore buckskin trousers and a shirt of indeterminable colour. He looked like a hunter, like Will, completely innocuous travelling on the road. 

“How…?” Will breathed.

Hannibal seemed pleased by Will’s reaction. “I’ve always had the ability to walk amongst you. Besides, i’m sure your friend will be more amenable to me like this than my true self. Women respond better to good looking men than a nightmare. I prefer this to go quickly and quietly, without much of a fuss.”

“Hannibal, please!” Will said but it was too late He was already gone.

“Alana!”


	5. Chapter 5

“Will! Will, where are you?”

This was insane. It was insane for Alana to escape the revelry of the village and come to the woods on her own. It was insane to entertain the thought that she could find Will, alive and unharmed, and get them both out of the woods, alive and unharmed.

She had no plan of attack, no idea in regards to what direction she needed to head in, and even less of an idea on how to fight the Horned God. Can you even fight a God? 

The only weapon she had on her was a carving knife she managed to smuggle out of the kitchens in the large pocket of her long skirts. It gave her courage, a fool’s courage perhaps, but it helped her put one foot in front of the other and just keep going. 

But what else could she do for Will, who had always been ostracised for his oddities by the rest of the village. He had been a good friend growing up, always kind and generous with his time to a girl who followed him around like he was some idol. She had harboured romantic feelings for him since she was a teenager, but had always known not to overstep the boundaries of their friendship. Those feelings had never soured over the course of their lives, and she wasn’t about to just stand aside while Will was carted off into the woods as a sacrifice. 

Will would have done the same thing for her if she was in his place.

So here she was, traipsing the woods in the dead of night and yelling for her friend, hoping to hear some sort of sign that he was still alive and breathing.

A sudden rustling came from her immediate right, branches creaking from weight being applied to them. She was immediately on high alert, hand going straight to her pocket with the knife. “Who’s there?” She called loudly, trying to project her voice so she sounded more forceful than she really felt.

No answer came and the rustling stopped as if an answer in itself. The low hanging branches kept on swaying and Alana couldn’t tell if it was from a wind or…

The sound came again, this time from her left and her head snapped around, the knife now out of her skirt pocket and pointed threateningly in front of her.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” She cried, eyes wide to try and see more. See more detail, more light, more of anything. “Show yourself!”

A shadow began to take shape in the darkness, the silhouette of a man and her heart leapt into her throat at the sight. “Will?” She whispered, almost breathless with the hope. “Will-”

“I’m afraid you have the wrong man,” came a cultured voice and it was most definitely not Will’s.

The stranger stepped into the light of the stars and Alana had to stifle an indrawn breath at the sight of him. He was no villager, she would have noticed such a striking face as his.

“You must be Alana,” he said, an odd smile playing about his thin lips. “Will talked fondly of you.”

“Will?” She asked, astonished to hear this man speak her friend’s name. “You know Will?”

“Admittedly, it’s only been an acquaintance of short duration.” Here, his smile grew wider and Alana saw a flash of teeth, sharp pointed teeth that didn’t belong to any man. “But i hope the acquaintance will deepen into something much more over time. I plan to make it so.”

Alana didn’t understand what the man meant by that, but she was suddenly very afraid. “Where is he?” she asked, lips trembling with emotion.

“There’s no need for concern on Will’s part,” he assured her, taking a solid step closer. “He is as safe as can be. More so than any other creature in my territory. No, i would be more concerned for yourself, if i were you.”

“Stay back,” she warned, brandishing the knife in front of her threateningly as she drew backwards, trying to get away from this - this demon.

He copied her movements but kept the same distance between them. She felt like she was being stalked, weighed, judged, and had been found wanting. Whatever he saw in her, he didn’t like it.

“You should put that knife down before you hurt yourself,” he said, thoroughly amused. “I don’t want this to be over before i allow it.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, trying to dodge around him but he was too fast to be tricked. He kept her dancing backwards “What have you done with Will?”

His eyes narrowed, turning sharper. “Both are none of your concern. Not anymore.”

Alana didn’t have a chance to react. One minute he was before her. The next, he was on top of her, the knife thrown to the side and out of her reach.

 

~

 

Will had never known terror such as what he was feeling now, not even when Hannibal had him in mind to be the sacrifice. To know what could befall his friend and not get there in time was a new level of agony. 

Her calls for him were like a homing beacon and he was able to use it to guide his way to her. If he hadn’t been experienced in hunting, the echoes would have turned him about until he was utterly lost. But he wasn’t a novice at this and he trusted his senses.

The calls abruptly stopped and Will knew without a doubt that Hannibal had already reached her. He couldn’t say for sure how far ahead they were in front of Will, but he had no other choice but to keep running and hope he will get to them in time.

“Alana,” he called around the gasping of air, “Hold on, Alana. I’m coming!”

“Will!” she screamed, her voice high with fear. “Will, help me!”

Will put on another burst of speed, almost flying over the ground, hearing her screams and thinking the worst. Each raw sound was like a brutal stab in the gut.

“Alana!” he called and there was a commotion just to the left of him. Will changed course and came to a sudden clumsy stop, almost falling flat on his face.

Hannibal, still in his human form, was standing still with an arm wrapped around a frozen Alana’s waist and the other hand held a knife to Alana’s throat. She didn’t look any worse for wear, save for a split bottom lip, the blood trickling down her chin.

Hannibal looked at him with a disapproving frown. “I thought i told you to stay where you were, Will.”

“Like you said,” Will nodded to Hannibal, eyes tracking the knife on delicate skin. “I don’t conform to authority, i certainly do not do well taking orders.”

Hannibal’s smile was lazy, as if he wasn’t holding a knife to Alana’s throat, as if they were simply two men in each other’s company and conversing about inconsequential things. “I did, didn’t i? Tell me, Will. Does Alana’s wellbeing add more excitement to this game between us or does it detract from it?”

Will swallowed thickly, edging closer with his arms outstretched and palms up in a universal sign that displayed he had no weapons on him. 

“It detracts from it,” he answered.

Hannibal tutted. “You are naughty, Will. Don’t lie to me. I know when you lie.” 

Will wanted to vehemently deny it, the words were practically dancing on his tongue to defend himself, but he had lost the power to omit the truth. Hannibal seemed to have stripped him from that.

I felt fear, Will thought. I felt terror, i know i did, the adrenaline kept me going-

Excitement caused adrenaline too. Had it been excitement? Could it really be…? It could. He had felt it just beneath his skin like it was coursing in his blood. 

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, this was Alana, his childhood friend, the only reason why he hadn’t closed himself from everything completely. And yet. 

And yet here he was acting like this was some morbid hunt. A hunt of two competing predators for the same prey.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Hannibal watched with an expression of smug satisfaction, his eyes dark with hunger as he looked at Will from behind Alana’s curling hair.

“What have you done to me?” Will demanded. 

“I can assure you i have done nothing to you, Will.” That voice rolled over him and he was beginning to hate how it made him feel, all shaky and malleable. “This is all you. Before this night you were like a caterpillar trapped in a chrysalis, lying dormant and devoid of any true growth. Now, you have awoken, breaking free of your cocoon and beating your wings before your first flight.”

“And what are you in this scenario, Hannibal?” Will asked. “What part do you play in my becoming?”

Hannibal’s grin was positively feral. “The power in which breaks you out and gives you space to fly.”

“Will,” Alana entreated softly. “What is he talking bout? What is going on?”

Will licked his lips to wet them, as dry as they were. “I don't know how to answer that, not when I don't understand it myself. Alana, may i introduce you to Hannibal, the Horned God of the Wood.”

Alana’s breath whooshed out like she had been punched in the stomach. “God?”

“In human form,” Will expanded.

“And now we come to an impasse,” Hannibal said, tilting his head in a way that his breath played across Alana’s ear, his eyes always on Will. “Dear Will was the sacrifice your village originally sent to me, only he seems very adamant on living. That is, until you entered the picture. Now he is practically throwing himself at me for the chance to die. I wonder why that is.”

Will took another step closer to them. “Don’t hurt her, Hannibal. She’s not the sacrifice, and nothing to do with us.”

“So why is she here, wandering my woods?” Hannibal mused, dragging the tip of the knife from one side of her neck to the other, the skin reddening under the pressure.

“Because she is my friend and she didn’t want me hurt,” Will explained patiently. 

Hannibal hmmed. “Oh, I think it is a little more than that, don’t we Alana?”

Alana whimpered, terror in her eyes as they pleaded Will to help her. 

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Hannibal. Just let her go,” Will warned, edging ever closer. 

“No, I don’t think I will. It has been centuries since the last time I have been so diverted by someone like you and opportunities like these are rare that I can’t simply let them pass me by.”

Will could only frown at him. “What are you saying?”

“To kill you would be a grave loss to me, Will. And I can’t let that happen. It is unthinkable.” Hannibal’s eyes were once again glowing and Will was unable to look away he was so mesmerised by them. “Someone must die in your place.”

Will shook his head. “No, Hannibal, don’t-”

“I will make it quick. She will not suffer for long.” Hannibal drew away from Alana, keeping the knife at her throat.

Will’s heart skipped a beat and he made a lunge for them but to no avail. Hannibal pulled his arm back, drawing the knife across her throat and blood spurted out in a grotesque arc. Alana’s eyes widened and she staggered forward, her hands coming up to cup her gaping neck. Will managed to catch her before she fell, but her weight and the fast movement sent him to his knees as he cradled her heaving body to him. 

He tried to help staunch the flow of blood with his own hand, but nothing seemed to stop it, it bubbled up between his fingers and covered his shirt with it until it appeared black.

Alana stared up at him, mouth trying to form words but only making gurgling sounds and Will’s vision blurred alarmingly with hot tears. 

“Alana,” he croaked. “Oh God, Alana, I’m so sorry. So so sorry.”

She tried to speak again, but couldn’t. Blood stained her white teeth red and it slipped from the corners of her mouth. She was drowning on it. 

He held her close to him until her heaves subsided and she stared ahead sightlessly, heart beating no more. Will held her in his arms, trembling and brushing her dark hair away from her rapidly paling face.

She was gone.


	6. Chapter Six

Hannibal couldn’t imagine a better becoming for Will at this very moment.

He kept his distance from the human, unwilling to intrude on such an emotionally charged scene, though it took all of his will power not to do so. It was more than he could have hoped for, seeing Will in such a macabre state as this, with dark blood painting his shirt and his pale skin, the side of his own neck.

The blood looked black in the moonlight, making Will’s liquid eyes and complexion stand out in sharp relief to the point where he appeared to glow. He looked utterly radiant like this.

Hannibal had never seen anyone more beautiful. By the end of this Harvest moon, Will would be his from now until the end of time.

He would make sure of it.

 

~

 

Hannibal knelt down beside them, keeping his hands to himself but watching him intently. “You should be honoured to have had such a friend, Will. She died so that you could live.”

“It wasn’t her choice, Hannibal. You robbed her of her life for your own selfish reasons.” God, Will was tired. So so tired, he could barely think straight. 

“I am a God, “ Hannibal offered, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did, Greek mythology had taught Will that the whims and desires of the various Gods and Goddesses were like the changing of the tides. Their actions only benefitted them or their favourites. 

Apparently Will was the favourite of Hannibal. 

Will finally looked up from his vigil over Alana and stilled his repetitive hair brushing motion at the sight of the man. Hannibal was still Hannibal in human form and yet… not… at the same time. Power radiated from him in waves, it felt like a heavy pressure against Will’s chest. He looked surreal, a man cut from hard granite, a little too perfect to be in this world. He couldn't pass for human now, not with all that energy in him. 

He seemed to emit an inner light and Will was slow to realise that this was the God’s power surfacing. 

“This energy,” Will murmured, the sound harsh from raw emotion he was battling. “Is it from Alana’s death?”

Hannibal inclined his head in confirmation. “Death magic is very strong, one of the strongest forms there is on this earth. Being a Harvest God, it brings a harmonious balance to me giving life. One cannot be without the other.”

“For the village,” Will said, clinging to Alana a little harder.

“Not this time, Will,” Hannibal said as he stood up and held his hand out for him to take. “I have grown weary of the Village’s bargain. I plan to use this power in a much more useful way.”

“Now you have really lost me,” Will said, perplexed. “What other way could there be?”

“In making you a God,” Hannibal replied simply, still holding his hand out, like patience was in endless supply. 

Will stared up at him with a blank expression. “I could not have heard you correctly. I thought you said you would make me a God.” 

Hannibal smiled. “And so I shall. I meant what I said, Will. You are irreplaceable to me.” 

Will stared at the outstretched hand like it was going to bite him. He thought of his life back in the village, how he felt like nothing more that a shade, a pale imitation of existence that wasn't really living. What would happen if he went back to them after this night, explain what had happened to Alana, that she had been the sacrifice needed and not him? 

There would be no shared relief at his escape, only blame and censure. Alana was well liked by everyone and her death would not be taken well. Will was supposed to be the sacrifice, not Alana. 

He would not survive another year of harvest, if he even survived the ire of the villagers. 

There was no going back for him now. Only forward. But did that have to mean his only option was to take Hannibal up on his offer? To be a God?

Will gently laid Alana’s body down on the forest floor, closing her staring eyes with the tips of his fingers, leaving a smear of blood in their wake. 

Will let a measured breath and gripped Hannibal’s hand, leet in him pull Will to his feet. He staggered, overcome with a wave of dizziness and Hannibal encircled Will in his arms, steadying him with his body weight. 

The feeling of being enveloped in the Harvest God’s arms should have repelled him but instead Will felt something a lot like euphoria. He closed his eyes at the sensation.

“How can you possibly make me into a God?” Will murmured into Hannibal’s shoulder, too tired to keep his head up. “I'm mortal, you are not.” 

Will felt Hannibal’s arms tighten around him for a fraction of a second before slackening. “As I said before, it all comes down to balance. First I must take your mortal life before I can give you your immortal one.” 

Will froze at his words. “My mortal life…?” he said slowly, pulling back from Hannibal so he could see his face, his heart stuttering at the implication of those words. 

Hannibal stared back at him with almost an adoring expression, a hand coming up to cup his cheek before slipping around to the nape of his neck and holding him there. 

Will watched in a detached sort of dawning horror as Hannibal’s other hand began turning back to pitch black skin and wicked sharp claws.

Hannibal’s hand tightened around his neck until the grip bordered on painful. “My apologies for what I'm about to do, Will. This is going to hurt but I assure you it will be worth it.” 

Will tried to pull away but the hand holding his neck kept him in place. “Hannibal, wait-” 

But Hannibal didn't. He held Will like a lover as he used his claws to cut from one hipbone to the other. Blood spilt across his hand in a hot gush and down to the floor. 

Will cried out, his legs almost giving out on him as the pain reached a fever pitch, radiating out wildly until all of Will’s nerve endings were alight with it. 

Hannibal kept hold of Will, pulling him closer so he took Will’s eight in his arms and Will was powerless to do anything about it. All of his strength had fled him, he was reduced to a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

He was dimly aware of Hannibal shushing him, speaking in a tongue that was incomprehensible, the words strangely melodic to Will’s ears. 

His eyesight was growing dim, blackening around the edges until it was like he was peering through a tunnel. The pain was growing fainter, his body going numb with every slow stump of his heart beat. 

“Hannibal,” he choked out, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Hannibal…” 

“It’s alright, Will. Everything is going to be alright. I have you.” Hannibal crooned in his ear softly. “I’m not letting you go.” 

And that was what he was afraid of, Will thought dimly as his eyesight was finally swallowed by darkness and he thought no more. 

 

\- 

 

Will surfaced from the dark waters of unconsciousness for a brief moment to Hannibal carrying him bridal style. He had shirked off his person suit and was the Horned God once again. 

Will couldn't see much from his position but he could see the leaves above them moving and the gentle roll of Hannibal’s gait old him they were on the move. 

“Where are we going?” Will croaked, the very act of speaking hurt him. 

Hannibal looked down at him with those eyes of his. “To my home. We need to be somewhere safe to finish what we’ve started.” 

“What you have started,” Will corrected, voice catching on a pained breath. “I never actually said I wanted this.” 

“Sleep, Will.” The God encouraged. “It will all be over soon.” 

Will wanted to fight against it, who knows if he will ever wake up again, but the pain pulled him down again. 

 

-

 

Will dreamt that he was drowning in blood. He was lying prone on the forest floor, unable to move, when a rolling wave of the dark red liquid rushed over him. It was in his mouth, his nose, his eyes and still he couldn't gain control of his body. 

He was drowning and he couldn't do anything about it but breath it all in- 

 

-

 

Hannibal was leaning over a prone Will, chanting something in a deep voice that echoed in a disconcertingly powerful way that made Will’s bones physically ache with it. 

They were in a dark place, too dark for a delirious Will to pick out any details, but he knew they were now no longer out in the wilderness. The air was warm on his cold clammy skin and he felt enclosed. 

How am I still alive? I've lost too much blood to keep on breathing. 

Hannibal touched his face to gain his attention, still speaking in that tone of voice. His eyes were glowing fiercely, that magic thrumming beneath the skin like a living entity. 

Hannibal stopped chanting and bent his head down towards Will’s and Will realised at the last second that he was going to kiss him. 

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will and nipped his bottom lip with his sharp teeth. Will opened his mouth on a gasp and Hannibal took advantage of it, plunging his tongue in to explore him thoroughly. 

Hannibal pulled back slightly, their lips touching, and Will became aware of a bright light passing between Hannibal and his lips, something warm like the sun’s rays. It spread from Will’s mouth, down his throat and into his belly. The wound exploded into fresh waves of agony as the light ched every part of his party and made him shine like a light bulb.

Hannibal never stopped kissing him, swallowing the pained noises he made like he was greedy for it. He was completely unconcerned of what was happening, patient as the light left him and made a home in Will. 

Once there was no more light transference, Hannibal pulled back and stared down at Will with a triumphant smile on his thin lips. 

Will’s eyes stare unblinking up at him. 

His heart had stopped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: i have never written a sex scene. I's so sorry if this comes across as awkward!
> 
> Either way, we are finally at the end of this journey. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i have enjoyed writing it. A big thank you to everyone who had commented it and given Kudos, you are all amazing!

It had worked. 

Hannibal stared down at the prone form of his dear Will, still so very human, and heard the first thump of his heart. It was the beginning of his new immortal life.

The power that had poured from Hannibal to Will would now get to work and begin changing Will’s human DNA and make him the God his rebirth had promised. It would make him stronger, faster, and eternal as the earth. 

His beautiful Will, his beautiful mate.

The hardest part was over, getting the magic to take to Will successfully as it had done. There had been no cause for concern, Will had taken to the magic like a natural. Now he had to wait for it to finish it's conversion and to do that he needed a safe, secure place to do that. 

Hannibal knew just the place. 

 

-

 

Will woke to find himself in some kind of great cavern of light coloured rock. He was lying on a bed of animal furs, practically sinking into the softness of it, completely naked. 

Blinking his eyes rapidly to clear his spotted vision, he stared up at the low ceiling of rough hewn rock. Will could only guess, but he had to be underground, judging by the earthy smell in the air of mud, roots and foliage. It was a pleasant smell, not overpowering his senses, and he breathed it in deeply and felt better for it. 

Will’s eyes finally adjusted to properly see the flickering orange light that danced on the walls. Turning his head slowly to the side, he saw that there were fire torches hanging on the walls in metal fixtures, giving adequate lighting to a large room that comprised of the bed that he was lying on, two intricately carved wooden chairs that were sat in front of a fireplace and a wall dedicated solely to a large rich tapestry of woven coloured threads. 

The tapestry depicted a medieval hunting scene in a woodland, with a horsed knight leading the charge of other knights on horseback. The leading knight, dressed in shining silver chain mail, looked a lot like Hannibal in his human form. 

Will’s world swam again and gave a low pitiful moan, closing his eyes and burying his face in the furs to make it go away. He felt like he was burning up, his whole body set aflame like the torches and his skin was itching. 

The itch was beneath his skin and it made him squirm uncomfortably, twisting his body to rub against the furs for some sort of relief but it didn't come. If anything it made it worse, his skin prickling with sweat as his body temperature kicked up a notch along with his breathing.

A flicker of self awareness passed over him and he stilled his movements. He should have been in pain. A lot of pain, but he wasn't. He was feeling hot, itchy, uncomfortably strange in his own skin, but no pain. 

His hand drifted down his chest and carefully touched his abdomen, expecting to find a gaping slash in his flesh but he didn't. What he did find as the raised sensitive skin of a newly healed scar. 

He paused, ducking his head down to peer curiously at his abdomen, seeing the silvery line where Hannibal’s claws had dug into him. 

“I couldn't bring myself to heal you completely.” Hannibal said, making Will jump at the sound of his voice. “It's like you are marked by me forever.” 

“You mean the mark of ownership.” Will said, looking up to spy Hannibal lounging in one of the chairs, his legs crossed over each other, back to human form and as naked as Will was.

Will couldn't help himself, the temptation to look his fill was too much for him. His eyes flicked down the broad expanse of Hannibal’s chest and the soft looking downy hair covering his pectorals. He had strong shoulders, defined arms and a trim waist. His legs were long and muscular, probably from hunting poor misguided humans in the woods.

The sight of Hannibal’s body did something to Will, a hot twisting sensation that made Will bite his lip to keep from whimpering aloud. 

Something was very wrong. 

Embarrassed by his response to Hannibal and his lack of clothing, Will hastily sat up, pulling the furs around him and hiding himself from view.

Hannibal watched him, eyes alight with amusement at Will’s actions. “The mark of ownership? Do you not want to be owned by me, Will?” 

Will couldn't answer that without lying. It seemed his body liked the idea of being owned by the God very much. It practically vibrated with happiness at the thought of it. 

“What is happening to me?” Will whispered. “What did you do to heal me?”

Hannibal leaned forward slightly. “It's a little more complicated than mere healing, Will. You died and my magic brought you back to life.” 

Will swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “I died?” 

Hannibal inclined his head in the affirmative. “You gave up your mortal life and have embraced your immortal one.” 

Will rubbed his hand across his sweaty forehead. “if this is what being a God feels like, I don't want it.”

“These feelings will pass, you are being changed into a better form of yourself. The magic just needs to settle.” 

Will stared at Hannibal for a long moment, trying to firm his jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order. “Am I like you now? Am I a Harvest God?” 

Hannibal’s answering smile seemed to light up his face and Will’s body answered it, sending a wave of pure need through his body that left him weak and panting. 

“Not a Harvest God, no.” His voice had dropped to a low crooning pitch, his eyes darkening as he watched Will wreath on the furs. “You are my complete opposite, a summer god that brings the warmth to the world and new growth for the harvest days.” 

Will struggled to understand the words Hannibal was speaking, his mind was easily distracted by the feel of the furs against his skin and the pleasure he felt at having Hannibal’s eyes tracing his body. He was responding to Hannibal like a dog in heat and it should frighten him with how powerful the God affected him. 

But it didn't. It only excited him more. 

“And what does a Summer god and a Harvest God do exactly?” Will gritted his teeth as another wave of desire that caused him to cry out. 

Hannibal was by his side in an instant, hands reaching out and soothing along his neck and shoulders. “Summer welcomes the Autumn transition by our union. You welcome me into your body to start the change of seasons.” 

His words lit Will’s body and he arched up, demanding to be closer to Hannibal. Hannibal didn't disappoint. He was suddenly over Will, mouth seeking out Will’s and claiming it. With a moan Will couldn't contain, he closed his eyes and pushed into the kiss, angling his head to better fit his lips against Hannibal’s. His hands pulled gripped the older man’s shoulders and pulled them together from hip to chest. Will's body sang with their closeness.

Will was rewarded with Hannibal giving a little sigh and the kiss went from passionate to almost devouring. The God’s hand wove into Will’s hair at the back of his head, tightening his grip until it was delightfully painful and making it impossible for Will to pull away from the kiss. Each revelled in the other’s unique taste; thoroughly exploring their mouths with the tips of their tongues. Lips slid together obscenely until they broke apart to breath, never far from the other, breathing each other’s air. 

Hannibal leaned forward, his teeth gently scraping Will's lower lip. The bite sent a jolt down Will's spine and he moaned softly at the feel of it. 

Hannibal’s lips left his and moved on to Will’s neck and Will’s head lolled back onto the furs as Hannibal lapped at him, tasting the sweat off his skin while his hands wandered south. His hands were cool against Will’s overheated skin, skimming across his hips and chest, thumbing a nipple before heading south again. He sucked a mark onto Will’s collarbone, a sharp brightness of pain that bloomed in Will’s mind, quickly fading and morphing to throbbing pleasure that beat with his heart. Will whined, unable to keep himself still. The need for touch - to mate - was pounding in his blood, overriding all coherence.

“I knew you would be mine,” Hannibal whispered fiercely. “Knew it from the moment I first saw you.”

The scent of Hannibal was even stronger and Will drank it in like he was parched, pulling Hannibal in for another filthy kiss. Hannibal coaxed his mouth open and stroked inside with his tongue, a promise of what was to come and Will was burning up, a literal time-bomb with a rapidly shortening fuse. 

Hannibal’s broad palms reached around to the back of his thighs and Will gasped as his legs instinctively fell open to cradle Hannibal’s hips which aligned them perfectly. The thick heat of Hannibal’s cock against his own made Will lose all control over the noises coming out of his mouth.

“Look at you,” Hannibal purred as he thrust forward, causing delicious friction between them. “You were made for me.” 

The truth of his words zinged through Will’s body and he could do nothing more than grasp desperately at Hannibal’s shoulders and meet the movement of the Harvest God’s hips with a grind of his own. 

Hannibal’s eyes flashed darkly and his thrusts became more erratic. Will felt a growing satisfaction in the pit of his stomach at being able to cause such a reaction in the God. He arched his spine, canted his hips up to meet Hannibal and the reaction was instantaneous. Hannibal snarled and sank his teeth into Will’s shoulder where it met his neck. It should have been agony but instead it sent a wave of ecstasy through Will and he wailed loudly, clinging to Hannibal like a lifeline. 

Will’s skin throbbed with pleasure, over-sensitive to every point of contact where Hannibal was touching his skin - the exquisite texture of Hannibal’s chest hair dragging across his nipples when he moved, the raw strength of his muscles under Will’s fingers. 

Already he could feel the crescendo of orgasm in his blood, the flush of heat in his skin that made the cavern feel alternately too cool and stiflingly warm as he ricochet between the maddening rush of sensations. He was teetering on the very edge but something held him back from falling over. 

Hannibal hummed, pleased, when he lifted a hand up and slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking for a moment before pulling them away with an obscene pop. Will’s breath caught in his chest when Hannibal trailed his fingers downward, from Will’s throat, to his chest, across his abdomen, before skirting past his jutting erection to his pale inner thigh, leaving a wet line heading straight for his hole.

Will shuddered when Hannibal’s fingertips found their target. When Hannibal nudged his fingers against the sensitive rim, something in Will unfolded, the tension in his spine loosening and his legs splaying further apart in a submissive gesture. The ache to be filled sharpened and he rolled his hips impatiently into Hannibal’s touch. Hannibal’s other hand comes up to hold Will's hips down and Will whined high in his throat. 

Hannibal’s eyes flashed again at the sound and it seemed to spur him on and push a finger in. It should have hurt, no amount of spit could be adequate enough to ease the stretch, but Will hardly felt a pinch. Hannibal's fingers slipped easily inside the hot ring of muscle and Will’s breath hitched at the easy intrusion. Not possible, he thought before his brain reminded him of his changed state. 

Will tried to squirm down on Hannibal’s fingers - and Hannibal let him until he was knuckle-deep and Will sighed at how they filled him. It was like a maddening fire and Hannibal was simply fanning the flames to dizzying heights. 

“Soon” Hannibal crooned, eyes dark and fixed on the point where his fingers were inside Will. Will felt himself clench and shudder at the feeling of being the sole focus point of the man. 

Hannibal twisted his fingers inside him and pressed deeper, searching for that spot inside of him. It doesn't take long. With a gasp Will arched his back, caught between moving away from the overwhelming sensation and curling into it; Hannibal grazes his fingers over his prostate again, and Will keens.

Hannibal pushed his fingers in again - three this time, and the added girth was enough to make Will gasp, “Now, Hannibal, please, i need-”

Hannibal pulled his fingers out and knelt between Will’s legs, Will's eyes zeroing on his cock. It was large with one vein creasing the underside, flushed red and wet at the head where his foreskin was already pulled back. 

With his strong hands, Hannibal dragged Will closer, the tip of his cock pressing against Will’s hole. He felt himself clench on instinct, but Hannibal’s soothing touches helped relax him bit by bit, hands caressing the backs of his thighs and hips and chest until he was loose-limbed once again. The God pushed home in one long thrust and Will moaned, head thrown back in pleasure as Hannibal’s cock filled him until he was gasping. Will couldn't tell if what was coming out of his mouth was words or not, he was just lost in the searingly overwhelming feeling of Hannibal inside him, Hannibal carving out a space for himself inside of him.

Hannibal pulled out and thrust in again shallowly, building a lazy rhythm, until his urgency pulled him deeper, urged him to move faster. They panted into each other’s open mouths, kissing sloppy and wet - as much as they could manage under the brutal drive of their hips. 

Hannibal watched Will’s face, drinking in his expressions, as he continued to thrust. He slid his hands underneath Will’s back and pulled him even closer, changing the angle so that the head of his cock glanced across Will’s prostate with every snap of his hips, and Will was gone.

He came long and hard, voice cracking as he wailed Hannibal’s name, riding the endless pleasure that shot up his spine and radiated across the whole of his body. He arched into Hannibal, pressed up against his chest and the warm weight of him, scrabbling for purchase on Hannibal’s slick skin. Hannibal growled, mouthing along Will’s neck, grinding forward with all he had. “Mine,” he grunted, fucking into Will as deep as he could go and came. Will felt the slick wetness inside him as Hannibal filled him with pulse after pulse of come. They shook apart, trembling in each other's arms as the blinding high of their orgasm cleared, leaving them sated and sticky. 

Hannibal smoothed a hand down Will’s shaking back, never losing an inch of closeness as he did so. “You’re exactly as how i expected you to be. Perfect in every way,” he said softly. “And all mine.”

Will had no breath left to reply. Even if he had, there was nothing he could say. It was the absolute truth, after all. 

 

~

 

Night had fallen over the village of Wolf Trap and the lights in the windows twinkled merrily out of the darkness. It was a scene of peace and comfort, where no corruption or violence had touched it.

A pretty little lie, of course.

Will stood at the tree line, his new sight able to pick out the minutest detail in the gloom. This place used to be his home, such as it was. It’s where he and Alana had grown up together, experienced their childhood years together. Did the villagers even know Alana was gone? Did they even care what happened to her?

Will felt that frisson of dark anger frisson in his blood and the power of his -Godship? Immortality? - well up and fight to spill over the world around him. Destroy everything around him. 

Fingers danced up his back before they smoothed over his shoulder and cup his throat, bringing Will into contact with the hard chest of Hannibal standing behind him. Will went willingly, his body instantly compliant with the manhandling, shivering with pleasure at the touch. 

“This will be the last Harvest they will have under my power,” Hannibal said, breath ghosting over Will’s ear. “And then their crops will wither and die and they will know the meaning of the word disease.”

“It’s too good for them,” Will said softly, his thought and feeling crystallizing into a clear picture: blood. “I want them to feel the pain they have caused to everyone they sacrificed. I want them to get exactly what they deserve.”

Hannibal held him tight for a moment before moving around Will to see his face, Hannibal’s eyes flashing in the dark in an act of unbridled joy. “I would make the heaven rain blood down upon them, with you by my side.”

He held his hand out between them, patiently waiting for Will to take it and join him in the carnage. Hannibal didn’t have long to wait. 

Will slipped his hand into Hannibal's waiting palm and they stepped out of the forest and towards a new future.

The Harvest God and the Spring God. 

Forever entwined.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://possessivenouns.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


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